


Love Can Tell a Million Stories

by embroiderama



Series: Ben 'Verse [1]
Category: White Collar
Genre: Father-Son Relationship, Fatherhood, Gen, Judaism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-03
Updated: 2013-07-03
Packaged: 2017-12-17 13:48:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/868257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/embroiderama/pseuds/embroiderama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With less than a year left to go on the anklet, Neal discovered that he had a new and compelling reason to leave behind the thrill of the con--a son who needed him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from the musical _Falsettos_. This is for the "secret child" square in [](http://trope-bingo.dreamwidth.org/profile)[](http://trope-bingo.dreamwidth.org/)**trope_bingo** , and related to that there's an additional trope that can be problematic, but I hope you'll give me a chance because I tried to handle it well. That was my challenge with this story, taking bad tropes and trying to form them into a decent story. If it turns out that I failed at that, I’m sorry.
> 
> Thanks: I have a bunch of people to thank here, starting with [](http://ivorysilk.livejournal.com/profile)[**ivorysilk**](http://ivorysilk.livejournal.com/) and the [](http://wcwu.livejournal.com/profile)[**wcwu**](http://wcwu.livejournal.com/) writing chats she hosted which helped get this story started and inspired the first few sections. Thank you to [](http://ariadnes-string.livejournal.com/profile)[**ariadnes_string**](http://ariadnes-string.livejournal.com/) for giving me some advice about cultural issues early on and to [](http://elrhiarhodan.livejournal.com/profile)[**elrhiarhodan**](http://elrhiarhodan.livejournal.com/) and [](http://angelita26.livejournal.com/profile)[**angelita26**](http://angelita26.livejournal.com/) for betaing. Thank you to [](http://theatregirl7299.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://theatregirl7299.livejournal.com/)**theatregirl7299** for reading and to everybody else in the chats for encouragement as this thing grew beyond what I expected.

The February cold was still clinging to his coat when Neal walked into the White Collar office with his usual morning cup of coffee in his hand and found Peter waiting at his desk with an odd look on his face. Considering that Peter usually liked to start the morning in his own office reviewing e-mails and alerts that might have come through overnight and that if he wanted Neal's presence he would just call him or wave him up, Neal had a feeling that the change in routine didn't bode well.

"Peter?" He said, taking off his hat and leaning against his desk rather than going around to sit down. "Good morning."

"Morning, Neal." Peter sighed, clearly uncomfortable, and Peter was rarely uncomfortable here in his domain. "Let's go upstairs, I've got something to show you."

Neal looked at Diana and Clinton, but neither of them seemed to have any clue about what was going on, and Peter didn't invite them along. There was a time when Neal thrived on uncertainty, on everything in his life being liable to change at any given moment, but the years and the losses they'd brought to him had taken away his comfort with uncertainty. These days, Neal preferred to know what he was getting into but he had little choice other than to follow Peter up the stairs.

In his office, Peter gestured for Neal to sit down before taking a seat himself. He picked up a file and opened it then sighed and closed it again. Neal itched to reach across the desk and snatch the file away. "Peter, _what_ is going on?"

"Theoretically we should have found out about this some days ago but the request went through the prison system and then the Marshals before reaching us." Peter sighed again. "Do you recall being involved with a woman named Andrea Goldbaum?"

Neal shook his head, and Peter passed over a photo. "Oh, I knew her as Andi Gold. But we weren't involved for long, just shortly before you caught me. I had almost given up on finding Kate, and well--"

Peter nodded. "I get the picture. I'm sorry to tell you that she was killed in a car accident several days ago."

It hurt to think of Andi dying that way, even if Neal hadn't thought about her much in the intervening years. He couldn't imagine she had thought about him much either; he'd liked her but they hadn't been _together_ so much as _convenient_. And yet it didn't make any sense that somebody had gone through a lot of effort to inform Neal this past lover of his had died. "That's terrible," he said. "I have no idea what she went on to do after you caught me."

"That's pretty much the issue at hand," Peter said, his voice serious. He held out another photo, and Neal took it, staring in confusion at a picture of a little boy with bright blue eyes wearing a matching blue polo shirt. "His name is Ben, and he's seven years old." When Neal looked up at Peter he knew the truth before the words were spoken. "Neal, she said he's yours."

Neal felt a sick combination of horror and hope filling his chest. He wasn't in a position to be anybody's father, but he'd listened to Mozzie for too long to think that abandoning this little boy to the system was any kind of option. "What--" Neal swallowed and looked up at Peter, embarrassed to find that he couldn't quite keep his voice steady. "When can I meet him?" Neal realized that he wasn't even free to make a decision about what to do, that he might not even be allowed to meet his son. "What can I do? Peter, what can I do?"

~~~

The one thing that didn’t surprise Neal was June's kindness.

"We haven't had a child living in this house for so long; it'll be good for us," she said when Neal approached her, his head still spinning from talking to Peter, the Marshals, ACS and Andi's attorney. ACS and the Marshals weren't willing to make any promises but neither entity had ruled out Neal taking custody of his son, at least not yet. The lawyer was on Neal's side, with a letter from Andi specifying that she wanted Neal to have custody if anything happened to her and a statement from Andi's only living relative, her 85 year-old grandmother, asserting that she wasn't capable of taking care of Ben.

And Peter--Peter hadn't held back on making promises, as far as what was within his power to control. He said he would fight for Neal to get custody and that he would help with Ben as much as he could, which meant a lot considering that Peter and children weren’t an easy mix. Neal had a feeling that Peter saw Ben as snapping the final thread connecting "Neal Caffrey, international forger and art thief" from "Neal Caffrey, law-abiding citizen," and he wasn't wrong. Neal knew what it was like to be left behind by a father who thought he had more important things to do, and he would never do that to his son. Even if he'd only known about him for nine hours.

Business hours were over by the time Neal got home and talked to June, but that was no barrier for her. Before Neal had even left the sitting room, she was on the phone with a contractor. Walls would be torn down, new walls would be built, and the space that was occupied by Neal's oversized walk-in closet and the hidden corridor beyond it would be converted into a child's bedroom--a bedroom larger than most kids had in Manhattan. With June's money it would be done by the time the details of custody could be worked out, and Neal knew that he should be too proud to accept June's help, but he wasn't.

Up in his rooms, Neal poured a glass of wine, drank it in two swallows, then refilled the glass. Despite the wine, his mind was still racing, full of contradictions. He couldn't say that he had loved Andi because he hadn't known her long enough for that, but she had seemed like a decent person. And she'd had one hell of an eye for diamonds. He understood why she hadn't told him about the baby; after all, by the time she knew she was pregnant he had probably been in federal custody awaiting trial, and he would've been no use to her or Ben for four years. But still, part of Neal raged at the fact that he'd been living an almost-normal life in New York for three years while his son lived in Brooklyn, not two miles away from Peter and El. His son, who was old enough to feel the pain of not having a father in his life, pain that Neal could remember too clearly.

Neal knew that he was nobody's idea of the perfect father, but he could only wish that he'd been given the chance to try. And now his son was sleeping on the couch in Andi's grandmother's one-bedroom apartment in an independent living high-rise. In the morning, Neal would get to meet him, but the morning was more than twelve hours away. When Neal gave up on the wine and went to bed, sleep eluded him as his mind spun through the past and the future until he finally gave in to exhaustion in the early hours of the morning.

~~~

Peter seriously missed Reese Hughes. Neal had just found out he had a child, a child who had just lost his mother, and as far as Peter was concerned the White Collar unit didn't have cases that were more important than a father and son meeting for the first time. The current department head disagreed, and considering that Neal very much needed to stay in everyone's good graces at the moment Peter didn't want to push back too hard. When he picked up Neal in the morning, he was strung just about as tight as Peter had ever seen him, his face alternating between terror and joy every minute. Telling Neal that he'd have to wait until the afternoon to meet his son made Peter feel like a world class heel, but there wasn't much else he could do.

Of course, as anybody with common sense could have predicted, Neal struggled to stay on task in the meeting about the new case that was so vitally important to the powers that be. When he slipped out for a break, Peter followed him into the hallway and cornered him when they were past the conference room windows.

"Look, I know this is awful. I know you don't want to be here. But we'll be here all damn day if we can't make any progress on the case."

Neal sighed and ran a hand over his face. "I know. I just--all I can think about is--" He shook his head. "So many things."

"I understand, but you can do better than this. Go do whatever you need to do to get your head on straight--run up and down a few flights of stairs if you have to. Then push all the personal stuff aside, come in and give them what they need from you, and I'll get you to Brooklyn as fast as humanly possible." Peter waited until Neal looked him in the eye. "You can do this. Just _don't_ leave the building."

"Yeah." Neal nodded. "Yeah, okay."

Peter watched him jog down the stairs to the bullpen and then out through the glass doors to the hallway. As much as Neal no doubt wanted to hop in a cab, Peter trusted him to be smarter than that. That trust turned out to be well-placed when Neal came back into the meeting ten minutes later with his tie loosened, his hair out of place, and his eyes clear. In less than an hour, he got inside the case, found the missing pieces, and helped the lead agents plan their sting.

Thirty seconds after they got the nod, Peter had his keys in hand, and he was following Neal to the elevators. In the car, Neal straightened his tie and finger-combed his hair, and then sighed impatiently. "Do you think the suit is too much? Do you think it'll freak him out? Maybe I should've brought jeans or something to change into."

"I think you just need to be yourself. That's how you like to dress, it's fine."

Neal was quiet for a couple of blocks before shifting in his seat again. "Do you think I should bring him a present?"

"Do you really think that would make it any easier?" Peter shook his head, that was probably the wrong thing to say. "You're a pretty big gift yourself." At a light, he looked over at Neal and saw that the anxiety in his face had again given way to a kind of joyful light that Peter had only ever seen Neal turn on for especially beautiful works of art.

Finally they reached the high-rise where Ben was staying with his great-grandmother, and Neal got out of the car and started across the parking lot with his head in the clouds. "Neal, hold up!"

Neal dutifully waited, but when Peter drew up next to him, Neal looked distinctly unhappy. "If there's going to be some other roadblock here, I--"

"No." Peter put his hand on Neal's shoulder and felt the tension in him through the layers of his clothing. He nodded down at Neal's feet. "Tie your shoelaces. I wouldn't want you to trip and fall on your face, scare the kid with all that blood."

Neal laughed, a shaky sound of relief. "Yeah, okay. Thank you." He bent down to tie his shoe then stood and looked hesitantly at the building in front of them. "This is really happening?"

"Yeah." Peter patted Neal on the back and nudged him forward. "It really is."

~~~

A fire was blazing on the TV screen in the little common area Neal and Peter passed on their way to the elevators.

"That looks homey," Peter muttered, but Neal didn't seem to have even noticed. He had spotted the elevators and was headed straight to them.

"What's the apartment number?" He asked, rocking back on his heels as they waited for the doors to open.

Peter pulled the post-it note from his pocket. "Apartment 608. And the ACS case worker should already be there."

Neal closed his eyes, looking pale. "I think I'm glad I wore the suit."

"I don't think the suit is going to make or break anything. You have a good chance here, and I'm behind you." The elevator doors opened, and they got inside. "And, worst case scenario, if they don't approve you now you can reapply when you've finished your sentence. That's in less than a year, okay?"

Neal just looked worse, pale and sweaty around his hairline. "I feel like I'm going to be sick."

"Please don't." Peter stepped closer and wrapped his arm around Neal's shoulders for a quick sideways hug. "Try to stay focused on what we're doing right now."

Neal swallowed and nodded. "Meeting my son."

"Meeting your son." It felt strange to say, and Peter was sure it felt even stranger for Neal to be living it, but there was no turning back. The elevator doors opened on the sixth floor, and Neal held them open for a couple of elderly women who were waiting to go downstairs. They walked down the hall, knocked on the door to apartment 608 and waited.

A minute later, heard the lock disengage and watched the door open to reveal a fragile-looking woman leaning on a cane. She looked at Peter first then turned her sharp gaze on Neal. "Ah, you're the one."

"Y-yes, ma'am," Neal said. "I'm sorry."

"Well you didn't do it by yourself, nu?" She still wasn't moving to let them even get much of a look inside the apartment.

"I meant that I'm sorry for your loss."

She nodded then, looking tired.

"Mrs. Goldbaum?" Peter asked, eager to move things along.

She turned to look up at Peter. "You're the FBI?"

"Yes, I'm Peter Burke. I want to assure you that Neal--"

She waved him off. "Yes, yes. You may as well come in." She opened the door, letting them in to a room that was small but very neat. There was a sofa that looked about as old as Neal, still bright under its plastic covering, and on it sat a middle-aged Korean woman and Neal's son. He looked a bit older than he had in the file photo and more nervous than sad. He had his feet pulled up in front of him on the couch, though he blushed and set them down on the floor when his great-grandmother turned around.

Neal came through behind Peter, then stopped with a sharp indrawn breath. For a moment nobody said anything. Ben stared at Neal with his whole face wide open, Neal stared back, and everybody else watched the both of them. The social worker broke the silence finally, standing up and walking over to Neal.

"Mr. Caffrey? Hi, I'm Lisa Cho from the Administration of Children’s Services." She looked at Peter then. "You're his supervisory agent?"

"Yes, Peter Burke." Peter pulled out his badge and she examined it before nodding.

"Well, we're not making any decisions today. We still have to finish our background check, and if things seem okay at that point we'll need to visit your home, Mr. Caffrey. I'm told that this is a rush case, though I don't know why."

Peter had a feeling that June had stirred her finger into the mix, but he wasn't about to complain. "We appreciate your hard work."

"Yeah, okay. Mr. Caffrey, the late Ms. Goldbaum identified you as Ben's father, but you have the right to verify that with a paternity test."

"No," Neal said emphatically, the first he'd spoken since seeing Ben. He walked around Peter then and sank down to the floor in front of the couch.

~~~

Neal thought, distantly, that he really shouldn't sit on the floor in a vintage suit, but he suspected that Byron would forgive him, considering the fairly unique circumstances. Ben had his knees pulled up to his chest again, and Neal remembered sitting that way all the time when he was Ben's age. And Ben--he could see Andi in him, her curly hair and pale olive skin, but Ben had Neal's eyes. Neal's father's eyes.

Ben looked like he didn't know whether he wanted to cry or to take off running, and Neal felt a little like that himself. "Hi," he said finally. "Will you call me Neal?"

Ben just stared at Neal for a long moment while Neal held his breath before finally nodding. "O-okay." He relaxed then, folding his legs to mirror Neal's posture. "My name is Ben."

"Hi Ben. It's really nice to meet you." Neal blinked back an unexpected swell of emotion and wished that he had some kind of script for this, some way to start the process of getting to know this little boy, his _son_ , without overwhelming him and making things worse than they already were. "I was sorry to hear about your mom."

Ben frowned and looked down, and Neal felt everybody else in the room trying to act like they weren't hovering.

"Did she ever tell you anything about me?"

Ben shrugged. "She said you were smart but not as smart as you thought you were."

Neal laughed, startled. "Well, she was probably right about that."

Ben perked up then. "You want to see my drawings?"

"Definitely." Neal could talk about drawings all day long, and he was glad that Ben's first topic of conversation wasn't some kind of contemporary kid thing that he had no idea about. Yet.

Ben knelt up and grabbed a sketchbook from the end table. When he sat back down he looked at Neal like he was suddenly wondering why an adult was sitting on the floor. "You can sit up here if you want?"

"Thank you." Neal stood and looked over at Peter to see him watching with a fond smile. Neal nodded at Peter then sat down next to Ben, who had flipped open his sketchbook. Neal didn't know what he'd been expecting, maybe anime-style monsters or something, but what Ben had to show him was a series of graphite and colored pencil drawings of buildings. Ben was good, and Neal recognized a few different neighborhoods in Brooklyn as well as several of the more interesting buildings in Manhattan.

Neal was examining the detail on Ben's drawing of the Bank of America Tower when Ben shifted and pulled something out of his pocket. "That's where Iron Man lives," he said, and the action figure in his hand swooped up over the building and around to land on on Neal's arm. "Do you like Iron Man?"

Neal considered lying but decided that even pointless lies were a bad way to start out. "I don't really know that much about him. Maybe you can tell me?"

Ben nodded but didn't move the action figure. He bit his lip and looked up at Neal with his face very serious. "Are you really my dad?"

"Yes," Neal whispered, feeling like he was being strangled.

"Am I gonna go live with you?"

"I hope so," Neal said, meaning it more than he would have imagined. "I really hope so."

Shortly after that, the social worker came over and took Ben out for a walk and Neal found himself sitting at a very small card table with Peter and Mrs. Goldbaum.

"You're good with him," she said. "I'm not going to ask if you're ready to be a father because nobody is. Your Agent Burke here has been telling me you're a mensch."

"I--thank you." Neal looked over at Peter, and Peter nodded encouragingly. "I didn't expect this, but I want to be Ben's father. I am."

"Well, that's plain to anybody with eyes. But I want you to understand, I could fight you on this and win. I may not get around so good, but I still have my marbles. I could move back into a regular apartment, hire somebody to help out, and they would give me custody rather than a criminal."

"Yes, ma'am. I do understand that." Neal swallowed hard, reminding himself that this was reality, at least until he was done with his sentence. "In fact, if they decide not to give me custody right away I hope that you'll consider keeping Ben, and I'll do anything I can to help out. Anything you'll let me."

Mrs. Goldbaum nodded. "First thing, when you call me ma'am I think you're trying to sell me something. Better you should call me Mrs. Goldbaum. If I decide I like you, you can call me Hannah."

"Understood."

"Now, I raised my son and I helped raise Andrea, and now I've buried both of them. Raising another one isn't what I want to do, but I need you to promise me two things."

"What two things?"

Mrs. Goldbaum raised one wrinkled finger. "First, you promise to bring Benjamin to see me. Every week." She waved the finger a little in the air. "Or as close to that as you can manage. Second, I don't care what you do for yourself, but you raise him Jewish. If he's going to be raised among the Goyim he has to know who his people are, do you understand?"

Neal nodded, though he didn't understand entirely.

"Agent Burke says you're a good man, but at the same time I know you're a thief and I see that you're just about the most Goyishe boy I have ever met. How do I know you won't bring Benjamin up to be a shagetz who forgets his mother and is nothing but trouble?"

Neal wasn't clear on everything she said, but he was pretty sure he got the gist.

Mrs. Goldbaum sighed. "I know you can't control what he'll do when he's grown, but you must promise to have him Bar Mitzvahed. Whether I'm alive to see it or not."

Neal blinked. He hadn't been raised going to church--Ellen was too busy and his mother didn't care enough about anything to put that kind of time into it--and his own beliefs weren't particularly attached to any kind of canon. His knowledge of religion was largely filtered through his experience with religious art and artifacts. He didn't have a problem with raising Ben in the Goldbaums' faith, but he didn't like agreeing to something when he had no idea how to make it happen.

"I'll need you to tell me what to do, but yes--out of respect for you and for Andrea I'll make sure he learns and remembers where he's come from. And I would love to bring him to visit you as often as possible. I know what it's like to be raised without a connection to family, and I wouldn't take you away from Ben."

Mrs. Goldbaum sighed. "Well, you can tell me that again in a few days after they make their decision and you have time to think."

Neal knew he wasn't going to change his mind, but he didn't push the subject. "I wish I had known sooner, about Ben. I would have done anything I could to help."

"Andrea said she was going to tell you once you were done with these people." She pointed her thumb at Peter. "I made her put the letter with the lawyer, just in case." She shrugged her stooped shoulders, looking older than she had a few minutes before. "And we see what happened."

The social worker brought Ben back into the apartment and gave Neal a rundown on what to expect in the next few days, then Neal reluctantly said goodbye to Ben and left with Peter at his side. He didn't speak as they walked back to the car, and Peter left him in silence.

"You were quiet in there," he said to Peter as they drove away from the high-rise.

"This is your thing. I was just there to back you up and make sure your status as a CI doesn't cause more problems than necessary."

"Thank you. I know you could veto this whole thing if you wanted to."

"That's the last thing I want to do." They were both quiet for a minute until Peter smirked at Neal. "Anyway, he's one hell of a cute kid. Just tell me you and Mozzie aren't going to use him as the new front man for your cons."

"Very funny," Neal said, laughing a little for form's sake. All he could think was _never. Never._

~~~

When Neal walked into his apartment, dazed and exhausted, he didn't realize Mozzie was sitting at the table until he spoke. "I'm gone for two days and you decide to redecorate?"

Neal noticed then that sheets of plastic were draped across the back end of the rooms, no doubt to contain the dust from construction. "Sorry, Moz." Neal grabbed a glass and sat down across from Mozzie before picking up the bottle of wine. "I guess you could say I'm going to get a new roommate."

"And you didn't ask me first? Wound me, why don't you!"

Neal took a long swallow of the wine then let his head drop into his hands. It wasn't even dinner time but Neal felt like it was midnight. "It's kind of a long story."

"Seriously, Neal, what happened? Did the Suit--"

"No." Neal pushed himself to sit up straight. "I got some news that I never expected. You remember Andi Gold?"

"The diamond fence? The one with the--" Mozzie gestured at his chest, and Neal held up his hand to stop Mozzie or else block out the image.

"Yes. She died last week in a car accident."

"That's unfortunate," Mozzie said hesitantly. "What, did she leave you something in her will?"

"You might say that." Neal rubbed his hands over his face. "She left me her son. My son."

"Your--NEAL!" Mozzie shook his head. “Tell me you didn’t leave him.” Mozzie looked two seconds away from standing up and marching around the room, and Neal couldn't take it.

"I didn't know until yesterday. I had no idea." He waited until Mozzie relaxed a little. "He's seven, Moz. And other than Andi's grandmother I'm the only family he has in the world."

Mozzie nodded. "Tell me the Suit is going to let you have him."

"It's not up to Peter, but he's on board as far as that goes. The mess back there is June having a bedroom built in. For Ben."

"Your son's name is Ben?"

"My son." Neal nodded, feeling giddy joy take over from sheer exhaustion. "My son's name is Ben." He smiled until he cried, and Mozzie just refilled his wine glass.

They drank in silence for a while before Mozzie quoted, "It is not flesh and blood but the heart which makes us fathers and sons."

"I think--I think if I get this right we'll have both."

"You know you'll have my help when you need it."

"Thanks, Moz." Neal wasn't sure how he was going to deal with the wait until he knew he could take custody of Ben, and he really wasn't sure how he'd deal with having this unexpected gift taken away from him if the decision went that way, but knowing that his friends would be there either way made the situation if not easier at least a lot less lonely.

~~~

It took a week to work out the details, a week of worry and distraction and not seeing Ben. In less time than Neal would have thought possible, the former closet and hidden corridor area were transformed into a bedroom. The room's only window was small but the pale green painted walls and recessed lighting made it seem brighter. June and Cindy took over decorating the room, and they filled it with light-colored wooden furniture and green plaid bedding, bookshelves and toy cubbies waiting to be filled with whatever Ben might bring with him from the home he'd shared with his mother. Neal's contribution was an oversized poster that nearly filled one of the room's narrower walls--Iron Man, flying up the side of a silvery skyscraper.

Mozzie helped Neal get the rest of the apartment ready for inspection, though that largely involved him taking away most of the wine for "safe-keeping." The apartment wasn't perfect, especially given that the privacy for Neal at best was minimal, but Neal figured they could explore other options once his sentence was complete. In the meantime, the prospect of bringing women home wasn't really on Neal's list of priorities. Ben was his family, and if he got the chance to try he wasn't going to screw it up.

Neal did his best not to think about what would happen if he didn't get custody of Ben. Mozzie and Peter both tried to bring it up, but Neal thought that he would be sick if he had to talk about it. He spent his free time reading up on parenting and Judaism and how to help children with grief, and he knew he was only scratching the surface but he had to try. The social worker came to inspect his living situation, and she had a lot of questions for both Neal and June but in the end he thought it went well. There were, after all, far worse places to live.

The final meeting was held in Mrs. Goldbaum's living room with Peter, Neal, the lawyer, the social worker and Mrs. Goldbaum crowded around the card table. Ben was waiting in a neighbor's apartment, probably being fed sandwiches that he was too nervous to eat. Neal reiterated his promises and with his heart in his throat he signed the papers that made Ben his. Mostly his. Officially, Mrs. Goldbaum would have shared custody until Neal's sentence was complete. Unofficially, Neal understood that she was there as a safety net in case Neal screwed up and ended up back behind bars.

And that wasn't going to happen.

When they were done with the papers, Neal wanted nothing more than to go get Ben, but Ben's things were in a small collection of boxes and suitcases piled next to the couch. Neal was looking back and forth between the boxes and the door when he felt Peter's hand on his back.

"Go," Peter said. "Take your time, meet me at the car. I'll get this stuff."

Neal nodded his thanks and went out to the hallway where he found Ben standing with the social worker. "Hi," Neal said, feeling tongue-tied again at the sight of his son.

Ben just smiled nervously, and the social worker patted his shoulder before taking her leave. Neal looked around and found Mrs. Goldbaum standing in the doorway. "Is there somewhere that Ben and I can sit and talk for a few minutes before we leave?"

She pointed her cane off toward the left. "Try the stairwell. This is a building full of old women, stairs don't get much use."

"Thank you." Neal looked down at Ben. "Are you okay with that?" Ben nodded, and they walked down to the end of the hall together. The stairwell indeed looked clean and little-used, and it was silent after the echo of the door closing subsided. Neal sat down on a step, and after a brief hesitation Ben came to sit next to him.

Ben screwed up his mouth like he wanted to say something, and then he took the plunge. "I can stay here if you want me to."

"What?" Neal had planned on asking Ben if he was okay with moving, since even if there was little choice he thought Ben deserved to be asked. But he hadn't expected this.

"I mean, I can still sleep on Nana's couch, and I won't run around and make her neighbors mad. I don't have to go if you--if you don't--" _If you don't want me._

Neal's stomach clenched with sympathetic pain, and he reached out and put his hand on Ben's back, willing himself to not react if Ben shrugged him off, but he just slumped a little under the weight of Neal's hand. "I do want you to come live with me. We made a room for you--a whole new room just for you."

"Really?" Ben looked skeptical.

"Really. I wanted to talk to you to make sure _you_ were okay with coming to live with me. I know I'm not a lot more than a stranger, and I don't want you to be scared."

"'m not scared," Ben said, though the look in his eyes made it a lie.

"I'm a little bit scared."

"Of me?" Ben looked at Neal like he was nuts.

"No, but this is new. And new things are scary sometimes. But I would've been really sad if they hadn't let you come live with me." Ben's disbelieving look hurt, but Neal pushed on. "You understand that I didn't know about you until last week, right?"

Ben nodded slowly, his eyes big and serious.

"If I had, I would've tried to get to know you before this. I'm sad about the reason we're here together, but I'm so grateful for the chance to be your father. Does that make sense?"

"Yeah, I guess," Ben said quietly. "Can I ask a question?"

"Of course."

"Do I get one of those, too?" He pointed at Neal's anklet.

"No, that's just for me."

"Oh." Ben pouted, like he was disappointed and Neal struggled not to laugh. "What about Nana?"

"She doesn't get one either."

Ben rolled his eyes. "No, I mean, can I still see Nana sometimes even if I don't live here?"

"Yes, of course. She even made me promise that I'll bring you to see her. Every week probably."

"Okay. Then I--I wanna come live with you."

Neal's throat felt tight, but he croaked out, "Thank you." Then he stood up and straightened out his suit. "Let's go say goodbye to your nana, and then we can go see your new room. Okay?"

"Okay."

Mrs. Goldbaum was sitting alone at her table when they got back to the apartment. She held Ben close and whispered something in his ear while he clung to her. When Ben pulled back, she looked up at Neal. "You bring him to see me next weekend. This weekend we can all rest."

Neal had been hesitant to ask, but considering it was Thursday already he'd been hoping to be able to spend the weekend settling in. "Thank you. For everything."

"You thank me by doing what you promised."

"I will." Neal looked over at Ben, who was holding his sketchbook. "Are you ready to go?"

Ben nodded and came to stand next to Neal. "Bye Nana."

"Goodbye Benji, you be good."

They walked down the hall together in silence, and in the elevator Ben tapped Neal on the arm until Neal looked down at him. "I don't want you to call me Benji.”

Neal nodded as seriously as he could manage. "Understood."

When they got to the front door Neal had a rush of nerves at suddenly being responsible for a child. "Do you think you could hold my hand?"

Ben looked up with big eyes and put his hand in Neal's, and together they walked out to meet Peter. He was standing next to the car talking on the phone but hung up as they approached. "All ready to go?"

"I think so, but wait. Ben, I know you've seen him, but I want to introduce you to my friend Peter Burke. He's my boss, too. And Peter, this is Ben Goldbaum." Neal couldn't help grinning. "My son."

Peter held out his hand to Ben. "Nice to meet you."

Ben let go of Neal's hand to shake Peter's, then looked up at Neal and whispered. "Can we go see my room?"

A minute later, Ben was buckled into the back seat next to a duffel bag, and they were on their way back to Manhattan. And Ben's new home.

~~~

Ben was fascinated with June's house. He gasped when they pulled up out front, and Neal was more pleased than he had any right to be that his son was impressed. Inside, Ben almost fell over his own feet trying to look around while walking through the foyer. Peter and Neal had loaded themselves down with bags and boxes and brought everything inside in one trip, but Neal stacked the boxes by the bottom of the stairs and let Peter go home. He could carry the rest up later, and Peter had done enough.

Neal guided Ben up the stairs, and when they got up to Neal's apartment dusk was falling but there was enough light left in the day for Ben to be drawn immediately to the windows. The doors to the terrace were locked--childproofing that Mozzie had insisted was necessary if Neal wanted ACS to believe that Ben wasn't going to fall to his death--but Ben stood with his sketchbook clasped in his hands, staring out at the skyline in the distance.

"Can I go out there?" Ben asked, tugging on the locked door handle.

"I think we should save that for tomorrow." Before Ben could protest, Neal added. "You want to see your room, right?"

"Oh, yeah." Ben turned around to look at the rest of the apartment, and Neal led him to the new room in the back, pointing out the bathroom as they went past. The door to Ben's room was open, and when he walked in, he homed in on the Iron Man poster. "Wooooow."

When Ben was done worshipping the poster, he put his sketchbook down on the dresser and looked around the rest of the room. "It's nice," he said, noncommittally.

"If there's something you don't like, we can probably change it. Maybe not right away, but I'll do my best."

Ben squirmed, chewing on his thumbnail. "It's not my room, it's like somebody else's room."

"Oh, I see what you mean." Other than the poster, the room could have been a tastefully decorated child-size hotel room. "Well, after dinner I'll bring up your boxes, and we'll put your things on the shelves, hang up some pictures and see how it looks then. Okay?"

Ben nodded, looking awkward and unhappy. As much as Neal knew that it was inevitable, he wished he could make everything perfect. Dinner was quiet, but Ben ate the rotini with marinara that Neal served him and drank a glass of milk. Afterward, Neal brought up the boxes as promised, and Ben helped with unpacking and putting his books and decorations on the shelves.

Neal was busy hanging up Ben's clothes in the small closet space the contractors had left, and when he finished he turned around to see Ben asleep on the floor with his head on a stuffed walrus. He thought about just putting Ben in the bed, but he didn't want any problems later so he woke Ben enough to stumble through going to the bathroom, brushing his teeth, and changing into pajamas. Ben was asleep again by the time Neal pulled the covers over him, and he looked almost frighteningly small even in the twin bed.

Neal wanted to stay and watch Ben sleep, but that seemed creepy so he turned off the light and left the door open several inches before going out to change into his own sleep clothes. It wasn't late, but the day had been long and exhausting, and after taking care of the dishes Neal climbed into bed with one of his books and fell asleep before he'd finished the first chapter.

Neal woke up to the sound of screaming, and for several heart-pounding seconds he didn't know where he was. The facts fell into place around him, and he scrambled out of bed to run back to Ben's room but the screams stopped just before Neal reached the door. In the dim light from outside, Neal could see Ben sitting up in bed with his eyes open wide, panting like he'd just run a mile, his mouth turned down like he was about to start crying.

"Ben?" Neal asked gently, and Ben startled then turned to look at Neal in the doorway, his eyes even wider as he pulled his knees up to his chest. Neal turned on the small lamp on the dresser and walked closer, slowly, as Ben blinked his eyes against the light. Neal didn't know what to say, but Ben looked _wrecked_ and Neal just wanted to fix it. "You had a bad dream?"

Ben nodded his head mutely.

Neal put his hand on the bed a few feet away from Ben. "Do you mind if I sit here?" At the tiny head shake from Ben, Neal sat down across from him, vaguely glad that he'd decided to wear a t-shirt with his sleep pants. "Do you want to tell me about your dream?"

Ben shook his head again, then his eyes filled with tears and his down-turned mouth started to wobble. Neal froze in horror as Ben buried his face in his knees and started crying, uneven breaths shaking his narrow shoulders. "Hey," Neal said softly as he moved closer. "Hey, it's okay." But Ben shook his head, and Neal cursed himself because obviously it wasn't okay. Sitting right in front of Ben's knees now, Neal ran his hand over the back of Ben's head, and as he started to rub Ben's back the tears turned into sobs.

Neal felt his own eyes stinging as he pulled Ben closer and Ben uncurled his body against Neal's chest and grabbed a handful of Neal's shirt. "I'm here," Neal said as he petted Ben's sweaty head. "I'm here," because there wasn't much he could promise that would make anything better, but he could promise that Ben didn't have to be alone. After a while, Ben's sobs relaxed into hitching breaths that still shook his body against Neal's.

When he froze and sat up, scooting back against the pillows, Neal swallowed back the sting of rejection. Ben's face was a mess of tears and sweat, his eyes red and sore-looking; this was something Neal could remedy. "I'll be right back, okay?"

Ben didn't respond, but Neal squeezed his blanket-covered foot and left the room. He collected a bottle of water from the fridge and stopped in the bathroom to wet a washcloth with cold water, then returned to Ben's room to find him holding a photo carefully in both hands. Neal perched on the side of the bed, cracked open the bottle of water and held it out. "Crying is pretty thirsty work."

Ben looked up at Neal with his eyebrows drawn together then carefully set the photo aside and reached out for the water. He took a few big swallows then looked at Neal like he didn't know what to say. _You're not alone_ , Neal thought, _in more ways than one._ Now that he was more collected, Ben seemed like too big of a kid to let Neal wipe his face, but he accepted the cool cloth when Neal handed it over. Ben held the washcloth over his whole face, his hands over his eyes, but he didn't look like he was crying anymore.

Neal knew he could look at the photo without Ben's permission. He could reach for it silently and replace it without being noticed, but he didn't want to be that way, not with Ben. "Do you mind if I look at your picture?"

Ben hesitated, then shook his head, and Neal made sure to make a sound as he picked up the photo. It was Ben, maybe four years old, and Andrea. They were both tan, smiling and squinting against the sun with sand in their hair; it was beautiful, and Neal couldn't help wondering who'd been on the other side of the camera. "I think we should get a frame for this," Neal said. "That way you can set it next to your bed here, and it'll stay nice longer. What do you think?"

Ben lowered the cloth from his face and nodded. "Tomorrow?"

"That sounds like a good plan." Tomorrow, which was actually today, was Friday and Peter had granted Neal the day off. He had a three-day weekend to get Ben settled in before Monday when Ben would start back at school. It wasn't ideal, but nothing about the situation was ideal. "Do you think you can go back to sleep?"

Ben nodded and scooched back under the covers. Neal set the photo back on the nightstand and sat on the edge of Ben's bed until his eyes closed and he relaxed back into sleep. Neal left the small lamp on, made a mental note to look for a night light and walked back out into the hallway without making a sound.

Part Two: [DW](http://embroiderama.dreamwidth.org/517467.html) \- [LJ](http://embroiderama.livejournal.com/538420.html)

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	2. Chapter 2

  
The long weekend went by quickly, with not a little bit of shopping for Ben and Neal. Friday was overcast and rainy, but they braved the streets in search of supplies. Neal helped Ben pick out a nice, vintage free-standing photo frame at the thrift store where Neal and June had first met, and then they headed downtown to Target to shop for bedding. The linens that June and Cindy had picked out were from a designer children's brand, high quality and appropriate, but Neal wasn't going to make Ben sleep (and dream and cry his heart out) in a bed that didn't feel like his own. Neal didn't know what had happened to the bedding from Ben's room in Andrea's apartment, and he didn't want to bother Mrs. Goldbaum with the question.

If Ben felt better about sleeping under a $30 comforter that was covered in cartoon characters than a $200 comforter in a tasteful plaid, Neal wasn't going to argue about it. He could put away the plaid set for when Ben decided he was too grown-up for character bedding. He let Ben pick out a few other items to personalize his space, and then they hit the board games aisle. Another stop netted them a collection of Ben-approved groceries, which had been sadly lacking in Neal's kitchen. Luckily for Neal, The Greatest Cake was turning a healthy profit.

Friday afternoon, as it started to get dark, Neal was putting away groceries, reorganizing his cabinet space that had never been used to store so much food, and he felt Ben watching him as he sat at the table and drummed his feet against the rungs of the chair. Ben seemed to be working up to asking something, and when he couldn't take it anymore Neal asked, "Are you hungry?"

Ben shook his head, looking troubled, so Neal sat down across from him at the table. "I can't help if you don't tell me what's going on."

Ben turned around to look out through the windows then turned back with a huff. "When're you going to light the candles?"

"Which candles?"

Ben looked at Neal like he didn't understand why Neal was so slow. "The _Shabbat_ candles."

"Oh!" Neal had been reading but there was a lot of information to synthesize and the thing that was least clear was which practices were more important. Neal hadn't reached the point of practical application, but clearly Ben wasn't interested in waiting for him to catch up. "I'm sorry, I should have been prepared for that." Neal got up and dug out the set of candles and candlesticks that had previously been used for romantic table settings, and Ben looked at them dubiously when Neal brought them to the table.

"They're not like my mom's." Ben pulled his feet up in front of him on the chair, and Neal knew he needed to salvage the situation. He remembered that there was a box he hadn't unpacked because the contents had looked more like things Ben might want in the future rather than decorations he'd want to use now. Neal had put the box on the top shelf of Ben's closet, and when he pulled it down and opened it up he found a pair of squat ceramic candle holders and a half-full box of candles. He found a box of matches in the kitchen drawer, made a mental note to start keeping them somewhere out of reach, and brought everything over to the table.

Neal pulled out the chair next to Ben and sat down. He wasn't sure what was officially correct, if it was okay for him to light the candles or for Ben to do it, but the important thing was that it worked for Ben. "What did your mom do, when she lit the candles?"

Ben looked from the candles and candle holders to Neal and back, and then he set the fresh candles in their holders. "She would wave her hands over them and then say a prayer. But I don't remember the words."

"Okay." Neal sat and looked at the candles, waiting for inspiration. "What about if tonight we light the candles together and think about your mom? And then before next Friday we can figure out how we’re supposed to do it. What do you think?"

Ben bit his lip for a moment and then nodded. Neal struck the match on the side of the box, Ben reached out to hold onto his hand and together they lit the candles. When Ben got restless, they left the candles and ate dinner then played with one of the new board games until Ben was ready to go to bed. If this was going to be their Friday night ritual, Neal thought he could get used to the quiet pace of it without any effort at all.

Ben had another nightmare that night, and again he cried himself out in Neal's arms. It physically hurt, watching Ben's grief, but from what Neal had read it was normal. Ben might've been holding in his feelings while he was staying with his great-grandmother, but he had to let them out sometime. The morning before Neal brought Ben home he'd met with Ben's teacher and the school principal, and Ben would be seeing a counselor there, at least for a little while. If Ben needed more help Neal would make sure he got it, but for now Neal thought that Ben deserved some time to be sad without anybody trying to talk him out of it.

Saturday was sunny and pleasantly warm, and Ben ran out onto the terrace as soon as Neal unlocked the doors. Neal wasn't sure if he should leave Ben out there on his own while he went to put together some breakfast, but then June turned up with the weekend maid following her with a tray laden with coffee, croissants, milk and donuts. Ben stared at the maid and then turned shy with June, but June knew what she was doing and before Ben was done filling himself with donuts she had him proudly telling her about all the skyscrapers he liked best and the details he'd memorized about each of them.

Neal was a little bit worried that June would be upset about the room redecoration, but she just laughed and admitted that she had suspected it was all a little too sophisticated for a little boy but hadn't wanted to argue with her granddaughter.

On Sunday, Neal took Ben out to explore the park, and when they got home Ben reeled back and stepped on Neal's foot at the unexpected sight of Mozzie sitting at the kitchen table with a newspaper and a cup of tea. Ben squeaked out, "Neal!" and Mozzie flashed Neal a look of awkward guilt.

"It's okay, this is my friend Mozzie." Neal nudged Ben forward, and Ben seemed to relax. "Moz, this is Ben."

"So I gathered." Mozzie put down his newspaper and held his hand out with a flourish. "Pleased to meet you, young master Gold. Baum."

Ben didn't seem to catch Mozzie's slip and shook Mozzie's hand, looking more interested than scared now that Mozzie wasn't the strange bald man sitting in the apartment. "Are you in the FBI, too?"

Mozzie sat back with a huff. "Hardly! I mean, no."

Neal took the opportunity while Mozzie was there to keep Ben company to go out on the balcony and catch his breath. Even with the interrupted sleep, Ben had a lot of energy. Neal could tell that Ben was still putting a lot of effort into trying to be polite and relatively self-sufficient, at least during the daylight hours, but he was still a lot to keep up with. Neal was looking forward to getting into a routine with work and school, even if that would be an adjustment of its own.

The plan was that Neal would take Ben to school in the morning then either Peter would pick up Neal at the school or Neal would go in to the office on his own. Ben would go to an after-school program until Neal could pick him up after work, and since it was at a Jewish community center the program would do double duty of helping fulfill Neal's promise to Mrs. Goldbaum. Mozzie and June were approved to pick up Ben if Neal and Peter were stuck in the middle of some kind of situation.

Neal was lucky that the Marshals had agreed to expand his radius, but he was hoping to be able to switch Ben to a more convenient school by the time he started second grade. Moving Ben away from the school he was familiar with at the same time as so much other disruption in his life wasn't a good option, but September was several months away. If Ben wasn't ready by then, Neal would wait.

It was difficult to believe that two weeks ago Neal hadn't known that Ben existed, and three weeks ago Ben has been living his life with Andi. Ben hadn't told Neal very much about their life, but from what Neal could gather out it sounded like Andi had done a good job of taking care of him. If she had continued working as a fence, Ben was entirely unaware of it. They'd lived in a nice apartment building, and aside from the obvious trauma of losing his mother Ben was happy, healthy and smart.

Neal could only hope that he didn't screw the whole thing up.

~~~

Collecting Neal Caffrey from the front steps of an elementary school was the kind of experience that reminded Peter of the fact that life could change on a dime. He knew it was going to take time for Neal to adjust to the new shape of his life, but in the space of ten days Neal had changed from a semi-reformed career criminal into a devoted single father. And while in many ways the change in Neal had been going on for years, in another sense it had taken seconds. Watching Neal meet his son had been like witnessing a little piece of magic, and for that moment it had almost been enough to make Peter want a child of his own. Almost.

When Neal got inside the car, he looked anxious and tired but this wasn't the worn-out tension Peter had seen before when Neal was concealing disastrous secrets and tap-dancing as fast as he could. This was a good thing.

"So, how did it go?"

Neal laughed under his breath. "How did what go? The weekend? Trying to figure out how to be a father? Dropping him off at school?"

"All of it?"

Neal was quiet for a minute, then he sighed. "It was amazing. And strange and awful. It's going to take me a while to figure this out."

"Well, you have, what? Eleven years."

"Oh my god." Neal put his hands over his face then ran his hands through his hair and seemed to visibly shake off the subject. "Can we talk about work now? Isn't there some kind of case you need me to work on?"

"Indeed there is." Peter gave Neal a quick rundown on the case the team was working on, and they arrived at the office just in time to join the meeting in the conference room. Everybody who knew what was going on kept shooting looks at Neal, but they followed Peter's lead and kept their focus on the case. If Neal needed time to adjust, he could have that.

By shortly after noon, the case was going nowhere fast so Peter grabbed Neal and took him to lunch. The diner was Peter's favorite; Neal pretended to hate their food and Peter pretended not to notice how much Neal loved their milkshakes and fries. It worked for them. Neal poked at his shake sullenly, looking like he wanted to say something, and Peter just worked his way through a club sandwich and waited.

Neal's question came seemingly out of the blue. "Do you remember having nightmares? When you were a kid?"

"Sure, now and then. I used to run and climb in bed with my parents, even though it drove my dad nuts. I guess I eventually got the picture and stayed in my own bed, but I don't remember that."

Neal nodded, looking more troubled rather than less.

"If Ben's having nightmares, I'm sure that's normal."

Neal nodded again. "I know. I just keep thinking about when I was Ben's age, you know? Ellen was amazing but she didn't live with us."

"Yeah." Peter was starting to get the picture, and he didn't like it.

"I don't remember anybody being there, that's all. I never really thought about it before." Neal shook his head. "Sorry, I'm being morose."

"It's okay." Neal's parents were a sore subject, and Peter wasn't willing to prod at that bruise, not anymore. After everything was said and done with Neal's father, Neal had admitted in a moment of weakness that as far as he was concerned his friends here in New York were his only family. That wasn't true any longer, not entirely, but Peter still had to respect it.

With that memory unloaded, Neal seemed to relax more into finding a new routine with Ben. He started showing cell phone pictures of Ben around the office, and in the middle of Ben's third week of living with Neal he made his first visit to the White Collar office.

At five-thirty, with the whole team still hip-deep in a hot case, Neal left to pick up Ben from his after-school program because nobody else was available. A little less than an hour later, Peter heard the elevator ding and looked down to see Neal walk into the bullpen, hand in hand with Ben. The little boy's eyes were wide, taking in the expanse and shape of the office, and he tried to pull away. Neal crouched down and said something to him, then looked up at Peter, apparently not at all surprised at being watched. He led Ben the rest of the way through the office, briefly introducing him to Diana and Jones, and then they climbed the stairs together.

When Neal knocked on the office door, Peter waved them in. "Hi Ben, it's good to see you again."

Ben squirmed and looked up at Neal, who bent down to whisper loud enough for Peter to hear. "You don't have to say hi, but it would be nice if you did."

Ben shifted on his feet. "Hi. I like your office."

"Thank you, so do I."

Ben smiled then, looking less shy, and Neal patted him on the shoulder. "I need a favor. I have to examine the rest of those bonds under the UV lights, and I don't like the idea of this guy running free in the office while I'm focused on that. Do you mind if he sits in here?"

"No problem."

Neal steered Ben over to the guest chairs and got him settled with a juice box and a foil-paper wrapped sandwich from a white takeout bag on his lap and his backpack on the floor next to him. "Ask Peter to call me if you need me, okay? I'll be right over there." Neal pointed down the hall.

Ben nodded, Peter nodded, and finally Neal left the office. Peter knew he should focus on his work, but it was somehow fascinating to watch this little semi-Neal stab at his juice box with the straw and unwrap his sandwich.

"So, what's for dinner?"

"Grilled cheese."

"Good choice. I'm surprised Neal doesn't make you eat vegetables for dinner."

Ben shrugged. "Usually." He took a bite of his sandwich and chewed busily then held it up for Peter to see. "It has tomatoes!"

"There you go. Well, enjoy."

Peter went back to the data he was scrutinizing, and he'd almost forgotten that Ben was still there when he piped up again. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure, go ahead." Ben's trash was set to the side, and he was holding his sketchbook but not drawing.

"You catch bad people, right?"

Peter closed out of his document; he could see where this was going. "Well, we do our best to catch people who've done bad things and try to stop them from doing more bad things. It's not our job to decide if they're bad _people_ or not. That's not anybody's job."

Ben looked away, tapping his foot against the chair. "Nana says Neal did bad things and went to jail, and that's why he has the light on his ankle."

"That's true. Neal did some things he shouldn't have done, and I caught him. But after a while I found out that he can do some pretty good things too, and that's why he works here. He wears the anklet so that I always know where to find him, but in not too long he won't have to wear it anymore."

Ben nodded, but he still looked troubled. "I don't want Neal to be a bad guy." Ben looked like he was about to start crying, and Peter wasn't sure how the conversation had gotten so out of control but he sent a quick text to Neal. _Come back!_

"Ben, Neal's not a bad guy. I don't think your nana meant that." Peter stood and walked around his desk, but he wasn't sure if crowding Ben would make things worse. In any case, the kid was too worked up to listen.

"Neal's nice to me, a-and I like him, a-and he's my _dad_ , a-and--"

Neal burst into the office in time to hear Ben's last few words and he cast a wild-eyed questioning look at Peter before bending down in front of Ben and pulling him into his arms. Ben wasn't quite sobbing, but he was breathing hard against Neal's chest, and Neal just hung onto him. "What's going on?" he asked gently, looking the same question up at Peter to include him in the questioning.

"I don't want you to be a bad guy." The words were muffled but clear enough, and Peter held up his hands and shook his head, hoping that Neal would understand that he hadn't said anything like that.

Neal nodded in acknowledgement at Peter then closed his eyes and rested his head against Ben's for a few breaths. When Ben pulled back, Neal let him settle in the chair again and handed him a tissue before sitting in the neighboring chair. Neal slumped, looking miserable, and rubbed at his anklet with the opposite foot. Peter figured that was his cue to leave the room, but Neal stopped him. "Would you stay?"

Peter dragged his desk chair around to sit in front of Neal and Ben. "Ben," he said, trying again, "did you hear what I said before, that Neal's not a bad person?"

Ben shook his head, frowning down at his knees, but Neal looked up. Ben wasn't watching so Peter held Neal's gaze as he continued. They'd gone round and round so many times that Neal probably didn't know what to think, and Peter knew it was time to make his opinion clear.

"Neal's not a bad person," Peter said slowly, clearly. "He did some things that were wrong but he paid the price and he's done a lot of good things now to make up for it. He's going to be a good father, and don't let anybody tell you otherwise."

Neal wore a broad, startled smile for a second before he schooled his expression, and Ben looked up, his eyes wide like he was afraid to believe. "Is that true?" he asked, his voice small.

"If anybody says something different, you tell them to come talk to me, okay?"

"Okay." Ben nodded then looked up at Neal. "'m sorry."

Neal put his hand on Ben's back. "It's okay. You can always ask questions, and if you don't want to ask me, Peter is a good choice."

It was Peter's turn to be touched, but Ben was clearly done with the emotional scene because he squirmed in his seat and picked up his backpack. "Can we go home now?" he asked Neal.

Neal opened his mouth to answer, but Peter cut him off. "Go. We're not going to be able to get a warrant tonight anyway. You can finish up tomorrow."

"Thank you," Neal said, clearly meaning more than the permission to go home.

"Go on." Peter waved him off, and as soon as Ben's things were all collected they headed toward the stairs and the elevators beyond, hand in hand.

~~~

The first spring weekend that was forecast to be warm and clear, Peter decided to have a cook-out. This was Peter-Burke-style event planning, quick and dirty. Ben would be the only child there, but Neal wasn't too worried because he was a good kid, better with adults than other kids sometimes. Plus, Ben already knew most of the small group who would be there. Between Neal doing his best to establish a routine for Ben and Elizabeth being alternately out of town and busy with clients, she was the one important person in Neal's life who hadn't met Ben.

Neal got Ben dressed in clean khakis and a polo shirt and packed up a cooler with his contributions to the meal--a pitcher of homemade white sangria, a container full of olive tapenade stuffed mushrooms, and a bag of baby carrots for Ben because he was currently obsessed with them. They took the subway to Brooklyn like they did on school days, but a different destination made for a whole different trip, and Ben kept it interesting with everything he noticed about the different stations and tunnels.

Elizabeth met them at the door, and as soon as she saw Ben she gasped and smiled. "Oh my goodness, Neal!" She looked back and forth from Ben to Neal for a moment then seemed to realize they were standing in the doorway. "Please, come in."

When they were inside, Neal kept his hand on Ben's shoulder. "Elizabeth, this is my son, Ben. Ben, this is my good friend Elizabeth. She's married to Peter."

Ben waved at Elizabeth. "Pleased to meet you."

Elizabeth looked impressed and amused and almost teary all at once. "I’m very pleased to meet you, too."

When Ben was finished charming Elizabeth, he fell in love with Satchmo and threw himself into playing with the dog with wild abandon. Ben had been with Neal for nearly two months, and in the last month he'd begun to seem more comfortable with his new living situation. Neal was glad to see Ben sleeping through the night most of the time, and he was pleased to see Ben expanding into the space around him rather than acting like a guest who didn't want to cause too much trouble.

Unfortunately, Neal was a lot less fond of apologizing to June when bedtime turned into a whole-house game of hide-and-seek, especially when Ben fell asleep in one of the hidden corridors. Neal had packed up the more delicate decorations in the apartment when reckless energy and growth-spurt clumsiness turned into a dangerous combination. Luckily for them all, Ben had enough fear of heights to keep him from taking risks on the terrace balustrades or the stairs. Nonetheless, Neal had learned to keep a good collection of band-aids and hydrogen peroxide on hand, and he was doing his best to resist Mozzie's urging to coat the kid in hand sanitizer every day.

Mellow from good food and a fair helping of sangria, Neal was in the kitchen discussing honeymoon destinations with Diana and Christie, who were back together and bent on wedded bliss, mutually this time. He was fond of Mediterranean beaches himself but Diana was pulling for somewhere with a higher ratio of frozen drinks per capita, and Neal could respect that. He drifted off from the conversation when the topic turned to off-season swimsuit shopping, and he realized that something was missing--Ben.

Neal stood up to look around and was silently talking himself out of premature panic when he heard Elizabeth shriek, "Oh my God!" from the back yard. Neal nearly tripped over a stool in his haste to get outside, and he banged out through the back door and across the patio only to come to a stop, feeling the same mix of horror and amusement that was visible on Elizabeth's face. Then Neal felt an extra layer of shame fall over the whole thing because that was his kid sitting in the freshly-watered topsoil of Elizabeth's new garden.

Satchmo was equally covered in mud, and he was sprawled on his belly in the cool dirt, contently relaxing while Ben "planted" newly-bought pansies along his back and, remarkably, on the top of his head. "I'm so sorry," Neal said to Elizabeth before walking over into Ben's field of view. "Ben!"

Ben looked up but didn't stop what he was doing so Neal walked closer.

"Ben!"

Ben stopped building up the dirt on Satchmo's back, and Satch promptly stood and shook himself off, scattering plants, mud and soil in all directions. Neal looked down at the dirt splattered all over his pants and bent down to hoist Ben up to his feet. Ben pulled away. "No!"

Neal grabbed hold of Ben's shoulders again, trying to hold him tight without hurting him. "What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing!" Ben cast a baleful look up at Neal.

"You destroyed Elizabeth's garden, and you're going to have to apologize--" Neal twisted around to look for the woman in question, but she had disappeared from the back yard, and Ben took advantage of Neal's distraction to pull away and run for the house. Neal tried to grab Ben before he could track mud inside, but Ben squirmed away leaving Neal with empty arms and muddy clothes.

Elizabeth came through the back door with a bleach-stained beach towel, but her eyes went wide and she stepped aside as Ben pelted past her into the kitchen. Neal and El looked at each other in shared helpless horror, then El shrugged and handed Neal the towel. "It's just mud."

"Elizabeth, I'm so sorry. I'll fix this," he gestured at the ruined garden, "just let me try to fix things with him first."

"Of course."

Neal quickly wiped the worst of the mud off of himself so that he didn't compound whatever mess was going on inside, and when he came through the door he found Ben in the kitchen, wrapped up snugly in another faded, oversize towel with Peter holding onto him. "I've arrested the suspect," Peter said, his voice wry and gentle.

Neal just sighed and shook his head; he didn't know what to say.

"Come on, take off your shoes and bring him upstairs to the bathroom."

Grateful for Peter's pragmatism, Neal took off his muddy shoes and, after considering putting his mulish-looking son over his shoulder in a fireman's carry, just hauled him up into his arms and followed Peter toward the front of the house. The fight had apparently gone out of Ben, and they made their way upstairs and into the bathroom without incident. Neal deposited Ben straight into the bathtub to keep the worst of the mud contained.

Peter traded two t-shirts and a throw blanket for Ben's clothes and Neal's shirt, and Neal got them both cleaned up as much as possible. His pants were a disaster--pale gray, dry clean only--but he sponged off the loose dirt and tried to let it go. When Ben was squeaky clean, wearing Peter's t-shirt like a tunic over his underpants and wrapped in the blanket, Neal mopped up the bathroom floor then sat down on the edge of the tub across from where Ben was perched on the closed toilet seat.

"Can you tell me what you were thinking?"

Ben shrugged, but Neal could see in his eyes that he felt guilty. "I was bored, and I wanted to."

"But you know Elizabeth put a lot of work into that garden, and ruining it wasn't a nice thing to do. Now you're going to have to apologize to her, and we're going to have to fix the garden."

Ben looked mulish again. "But _you_ did bad things!"

Neal heard the echo of his own thought process, at seventeen rather than seven, and all he could do for a minute was put his head in his hands and try to figure out what to say. When he looked back up, Ben was watching him closely. "You're right, I did. When I was older than you but still a kid I found out _my_ father had done bad things, and I found out that my mother had been lying to me for as long as I could remember. Not about little things, about big things. And I never meant to hurt anybody, but I ruined things that other people worked for. I've paid for that in a lot of ways, and other people paid for it too."

"Who?" Ben's voice was very small.

"Well, you and your mom, for example. If I hadn't been in trouble I could have been there for you." Neal couldn't think of any way to tell Ben about things Keller had done without giving him a whole new set of nightmares. "I can't change what I did in the past, but I promise that I won't lie to you. Not about anything important. And I'm not going to let you use me as excuse for doing things that you know are wrong."

Ben looked down, and Neal thought--hoped--that he'd gotten through to him. By the time they went downstairs in their borrowed t-shirts, the rest of the guests had gone home. Peter and Elizabeth were doing dishes and, with Neal's hand at his back, Ben padded into the kitchen on bare feet.

"Elizabeth?" He said, sounding like he was about to beg for a stay of execution.

She dried her hands and turned to look down at him. "Yes, Ben?"

"I'm sorry for messing up your garden. It was mean, and I'm sorry."

She made a sympathetic face. "I accept your apology."

"Aaaaand?" Neal reminded Ben quietly.

"And will you please let Neal and me come back tomorrow to fix your garden?"

Elizabeth smiled. "I think that next weekend would be better but yes, I would love for you to fix my garden. Thank you for offering, that was very brave."

Ben beamed, and Neal mouthed _thank you_ to Elizabeth.

By the time their clothes were clean and dry it was later than they had intended to stay. Ben was quiet on the trip home, leaning into Neal's side on the subway seats. It was hard to see the humiliating mess of the day as a positive thing, but Neal held Ben close and reminded himself that it was normal, that normal was okay.

Another normal thing that Neal wasn't looking forward to dealing with was Ben getting sick, but one morning he woke up sniffly and miserable. Neal was sure it was just a cold since he barely had a fever at all, but he was too sick for Neal to make him go to school. He would've liked to let Ben stay home, but Peter was limited as to how flexible he could be with Neal's time in the office and with only a handful of months left in his sentence neither of them wanted to rock the boat.

Ben usually only went to visit with his nana on Saturday or Sunday, but June was out of town and Neal didn't want to ask Mozzie to spend all day with a germy child so he worked up his nerve and called her. Neal knew he hadn't fully earned her trust yet, but he was doing his best to honor her wishes and he thought he had earned some points with her for observing Passover along with Ben and for lighting the Shabbat candles every Friday. The truth was that Neal loved lighting the candles with Ben. It was familiar to Ben from his life with Andrea, and it was one of the first things he and Ben had shared.

Thankfully, Mrs. Goldbaum took Neal's call and agreed to take care of Ben for the day. Neal got him to eat a little bit of breakfast and take some medicine then bundled him into a cab, pajamas and all, and took him to stay with his nana. When Neal left, Ben was on the couch under a pile of multi-colored afghans, and he had his backpack full of things to keep him from getting bored if he felt better later on. Mrs. Goldbaum promised to call if Ben's fever got worse, then shooed Neal away with her cane. Neal called at lunch time, and Ben was still stuffed-up and mopey but also awake and playing with his DS and getting ready to eat some soup that had been delivered from the deli near Mrs. Goldbaum's building.

As Neal walked down the hallway to pick Ben up that evening, he heard laughter coming from inside the apartment. Very familiar laughter, and a familiar voice calling out, "Hannah, you minx!" in a tone of scandalized delight. When Neal knocked, Mozzie answered the door and blithely ignored Neal's mute _what the hell?_ look. Inside the apartment, three folding chairs were set around the card table, and Mrs. Goldbaum, Mozzie and an afghan-wrapped Ben had obviously been playing gin rummy.

Mozzie had dropped off Ben to visit Mrs. Goldbaum twice when Neal had been tied up with work on Saturdays, but Neal had no idea that they'd become friends. Nonetheless, it wasn't much of a surprise. "She lets you call her Hannah?" Neal muttered to Mozzie when he got him out of earshot.

Mozzie shrugged. "She likes me."

"Clearly. You know you didn't need to come out and check on Ben, but that was really nice of you, Moz."

Mozzie stood up straighter and repositioned his glasses. "I do go places for reasons unconnected to your offspring."

Neal didn't have much to say to that. He offered to share a cab back to Manhattan, but Mozzie declined. After thanking Mrs. Goldbaum, Neal bundled up Ben and took him home. There was an accident on the bridge, so the cab ride home was slow. Ben was curled up next to Neal on the seat while Neal checked the news on his phone, sure that Ben had fallen asleep.

"Neal?" Ben asked, his voice soft and sleepy. "If I wanted to sometime, would it be okay with you if I called you Dad? 'stead of Neal?"

Neal froze, his throat tight, and he was glad that Ben couldn't see his face. "Sure," he said after a minute. "If you want to, I would like that."

"Okay," Ben said, nestling in closer. "Not now." Ben's voice was even softer as he faded off to sleep. "Sometime."

Neal put his phone in his pocket and wrapped his arm around Ben. He didn't know how much longer the trip home took; he didn't care.

~~~

Neal helped Ben get dressed in his new navy blue suit then stood back to look at him. He'd known Ben for nearly a year, and already Ben was looking more grown-up. He'd outgrown most of the clothes that Neal had put away that first night, and with each new outfit they were losing tangible traces of Ben's mother and the life he'd had with her. On her birthday, he and Ben had worked together to fill a collage frame with pictures of her, with and without Ben, and it hung near the shelf where they kept the shabbat candlesticks and candles, among other things.

More than Ben's wardrobe had changed in the last year; he had started second grade at a school much closer to June's house, and his after school program was at a closer Jewish community center as well. Ben still went to some weekend activities hosted by his old after school program, and Neal was glad to give him as much connection to his mother's heritage as he could. Neal had little to offer Ben as far as history and family went, and his promise to Ben's great-grandmother was a real commitment--not least because she'd probably hit him with her cane if he failed to follow through.

Legally, Ben was 100% Neal's. The anklet was gone, Neal was a free man, and the papers to grant Neal full custody had been signed in December. He was still working for the FBI, and while he wasn't sure if he would work there long-term staying in New York was a foregone conclusion. Ben's family lived there. _Neal_ 's family lived there. Andrea was buried there, and as soon as Ben was ready to go they'd be picking up Mrs. Goldbaum to go to the cemetery for the unveiling.

June and Mozzie were riding together in one of June's cars, and she'd offered the second car along with a driver to Neal for the day's journey. Peter and Elizabeth would meet them there, along with a few of Andrea's friends and the rabbi Mrs. Goldbaum had chosen.

Neal ruffled his fingers through Ben's hair, and Ben ducked away, complaining. "Dad, stop."

"Sorry, bud. Are you ready to go?"

Ben nodded but he looked troubled.

"You know it's okay to be sad, right? Nobody's going to be mad at you."

"I know," Ben mumbled. "I just--I don't know what it's going to be like."

"The ceremony? You know, I don't either, not exactly. We'll figure it out together, and it'll be okay."

"Okay."

Neal hated seeing Ben nervous and uncertain, but there was no way around the fact that this would be a difficult day. "Let's go so that your nana doesn't think we forgot her."

The ride to Mrs. Goldbaum's building went by quickly, and Neal had planned on escorting her from her apartment, but she was waiting for them in the lobby. She put a hand on Ben's shoulder and looked at him for a moment.

"You look very handsome, bubala. Your mother would be proud."

Neal tried not to let her see how pleased he was at the praise, no matter how indirect. They walked out to the car, and she settled in the front seat next to the driver while Neal and Ben got back in behind them. The ride out to the cemetery felt long, and Neal empathized with Ben's anxiety. After all, a side-effect of not having much family was not attending many funerals or memorial services. He hadn't known about his mother's death until more than a year afterward, and his father was simply long gone. After Kate's death he'd been locked up, unable to do anything other than grieve on his own. Thoughts of a graveside service led him inexorably back to Ellen, and some days her death still felt uncomfortably recent. He wished, more than anything, that she could have met Ben.

When they finally arrived in the sprawling old cemetery, Mrs. Goldbaum allowed Neal to take her arm to assist her across the grass to the chair set out for her next to Andrea's grave site. Very soon, the small group of mourners was gathered along with the rabbi, and as Neal stood with his hand on Ben's shoulder he could feel Peter right next to him and his other friends close as well. This was his family, mismatched and unlikely as they were.

Neal let the rabbi's prayers wash over him, and when it was time he watched as Ben walked up to take the cloth off of the monument. Ben was crying when he came back, and Neal passed him a tissue and held him close to his side. At the end, when it was his turn to place a stone on the grave all Neal could do was silently thank Andi for giving him Ben. With his son at his side, he went to help Mrs. Goldbaum back to the car.

"Mrs. Goldbaum?"

She looked up at Neal with a worn, settled kind of sadness on her face. "Oy," she sighed. "You may call me Hannah."

Ben stage-whispered, " _Dad!_ " and Neal hoped that Andi would forgive him for being happy because, more than ever in his life, he was.


End file.
